Page 13 of Hooked By Hudson

We drive in silence for the first ten minutes. She’s watching the road, and I’m watching her in the reflection off the windshield, the lines of her profile etched against the harsh glare of sunrise. I take her soft hand in mine and bring it to my lips for a kiss. “Do you need me to stop for coffee on the way?”

“No, I had two cups already.” She looks over and smiles at me. “But thank you.”

“Anything for you, sweetheart.” I mean those words. I’d do absolutely anything for her.

A while later, we pull up outside the bank.

“You want me to come in?” I ask.

She’s already grabbing her bag. “I’ve got this.”

I know she wants to do this on her own, so I don’t argue. I turn up the AC and pull out my book. “I’ll just wait here then.” After a few minutes, I realize I’ve been staring at the same goddamn page without reading a single word. So, I pull out my phone to check my emails. I check the markets. I text the stable manager about the new mare. Nothing holds my attention. I keep looking back at the glass doors, telling myself I should’ve at least waited inside. She’s in there for almost an hour, and I sweat every goddamn minute.

When she finally steps out, there’s a flush on her cheeks and a smile on her lips. I hop out of the truck and walk over to her.

“It’s official,” she says, voice ringing. “I’m the proud owner of a 2019 Corolla.”

Fuck, she’s something else. “Let’s go check out your new car.”

I follow her to the black Corolla, and she unlocks it with the key fob. She opens the door and looks up at me, her eyes bright in the late-morning sun. “Thanks for coming with me,” she says. “I know you probably have a million other things to do.”

“Nothing is more important than you,” I tell her. “Drive safe. I’ll be right behind you.”

The drive back to Silver Spoon Falls is a test of willpower. I keep her little black car in view the whole way, watching every swerve and lane change, my mind running wild with every possible disaster that could befall her on the open road. She’s a good driver. Confident. And I’m a pussy-whipped moron.

By the time we’re back in town, the heat has reached a fever pitch. I follow her to her apartment and park behind her in the lot. She waits for me by the stairwell, arms crossed, hair a little wild from the AC, and I know she feels the same static buzzing between us.

I walk her to the door, neither of us saying a word. At her doorstep, she turns to face me.

“Thanks again,” she says, voice low.

I don’t let myself think. I reach for her, hand cupping her jaw, and kiss her like I’ve been dying to do since the day we met. She freezes for half a second, then melts into me, her hands grabbing my shirt, pulling me closer.

It’s not a polite kiss. It’s hungry, unbalanced, desperate. When she breaks away, we’re both breathing hard.

I want to ask her out tomorrow night, but I have a meeting tomorrow in Dallas and I have to catch up on a million things at the office this week. Fucking business is getting in the way of my wooing campaign. “Will you have dinner with me Friday night?” I ask. “At my place.”

She grins, brushing her thumb along the edge of my jaw. “I’ll be there. What time do you want me to come over?”

“Does seven work for you?”

“It does. I’ll see you then.” She leans in, quick and fierce, and kisses me again. Then she turns and disappears inside, leaving me standing on the landing, the taste of her still fresh in my mouth.

I walk back to the truck, feeling like a man who just bet the whole ranch on a single hand of cards. I have no idea if I’m going to win or lose, but for the first time in my life, I don’t care.

Friday can’t come soon enough.

Tuesday morning, the alarm buzzes at six. I slap it silent, then stare at the ceiling and count every second until it’s reasonable to text her. Five minutes later, I decide to hell with it and type out a message.

Me

Good morning. I won’t see you at The Golden Mug today. I have a meeting up in Dallas.

Tinsley

My day just won’t be the same. Have a safe trip.

Me